Five Years
by Chut Up Bushes
Summary: A lot can happen in five years. Anya's back from the dead and living with Xander and he will do anything to win her back. The only problem is, Satan wants Anya back in Hell and there's this growing spark between Anya and an old friend.
1. Two Old Friends

Pairings: Xander/Anya, Spike/Anya

* * *

This is post-Season 7, ignoring the Season 8 comic books. Five years after the finale.

It was nearing midnight and Anya was walking alone on the empty sidewalks of Dayton, Ohio with nothing but a wad of cash in her pocket and a bottle of aspirin in her hand. She knew it was late, too late to be walking the city streets at this hour, but she felt it was the least she could do for Xander considering he was letting her stay at his place rent-free. And he really needed the aspirin, anyhow, he was having a lot of migraines lately and he had run out. And she didn't want his head to keep throbbing, his moans pierced right through the thin walls into Anya's bedroom. She needed the sleep for her job interview tomorrow.

Two blocks away.

She thought, just two more blocks until a good night's sleep. She looked down at the pill bottle rounding the corner. She carefully read the dosing instructions for she didn't want Xander to accidentally overdose again.

Anya suddenly felt herself run into something- someone, and she dropped the pill bottle, startled. The cap popped off and the aspirin started rolling away down the sidewalk.

"Some safety cap." Anya mumbled, dropping to all fours to pick the tiny pills up. She saw hands reaching out for them, also, and she thought it was weird that another person was out so late.

"I'm sorry." She heard, a thick British voice that rung off a bell in her head.

"It's fine, I should have been watching where I was going." She responded, head still bent. She lifted it up the same time as the man across from her did.

There was a long, questioning silence that hung between the two as their eyes finally met. Neither one of them knew if they were hallucinating, because the one across from them was a familiar face. A familiar face that just couldn't be possible. They must be mistaken.

Finally, Anya opened her mouth. "Do I know you?"

"I was just going to ask you the same thing." The man responded.

Anya shook her head, convinced that the five years since she had seen this face had just made her mistaken, this was not him, this was just a random person. "Well, I've got to get home." She stood up.

The man nodded slowly, standing up also. "Yeah, I, uh... I guess I should, too."

They began to walk in opposite directions, slowly, both thinking. Anya looked up at the sky, the few stars she could see. No, she wasn't imagining things, she wasn't. It was impossible, sure, but she wasn't crazy. She stopped walking. Without turning around, she let out a sigh. "Spike?" She questioned, an almost broken whisper, but loud enough for the man to hear. She could hear his echoing footsteps come to an abrupt halt. She turned around the same moment that he did, and they both stood looking at each other in silence. The man looked, confused, stunned, and a bit weak. Anya guessed she was the mirror image of this.

His mouth dropped open, and it took a few seconds for him to make any type of sound. "A-Anya?"

She smiled weakly, shrugging. "Yeah." She replied.

There was a moment when neither one of them knew what to do, but Anya started walking towards him, and Spike towards her. They stopped about three feet short of each other, not knowing what the proper greeting was. Spike stuck out his hand for a handshake, but Anya decided that was much too formal and threw her arms around him, going for her usual hugging style. Spike just gave her a couple manly pats on the back and she released herself.

"Spike, I-I'm sorry, it's just... I thought you were dead. Or, or combusted, or whatever. And it's been years. I mean years since I've seen you or Buffy or Willow or Giles-"

"See, funny, because I thought you were dead." Spike interrupted her.

"Oh, I was." Anya replied, starting to walk towards her house. Spike followed along-side. "But you see, D'Hoffryn had this major drought-"

"A... drought?" Spike questioned.

"Well, a demon drought. He was kind of treating the vengeance girls like crap, so a bunch of them quit, and with D'Hoffryn's constant bad mood these days didn't help to recruit any newbies, so he brought me back."

Spike stared at her in disbelief. "He brought you back? From the dead? He resurrected you and the whole bit?"

Anya nodded. "Yep."

"I didn't even know D'Hoffryn had that kind of power." Spike shared.

"He doesn't." Anya replied curtly. "He had to recruit twenty witches for the whole process. And apparently it took a few hours. I mean, this was a big thing. And it wasn't even like when Willow resurrected Buffy, like, one second I was in Hell and the next I was lying in the middle of this big circle of witches with D'Hoffryn staring right at me and-"

Spike's steps halted. "You were in Hell?"

Anya turned towards him and her eyes seemed to grow darker. Her face turned a pale color close to that of a vampire's.

"I thought you were different." Spike stated, nodding. "I said to myself, I know I haven't seen this girl in five years, but she's different, she's different then-"

"So D'Hoffryn and his little Wiccans really did the job." Anya cut him off abruptly as the color returned to her face and the light to her eyes. She continued to walk again, pretending like nothing had ever happened. "And of course, he wanted me to become a vengeance demon again. After he tried to kill me a few years back, so, naturally, I said no... but we made a deal. He would let me go leave a normal, human life as long as I helped him recruit more women. So I did. I recruited at least a hundred, it was really quite easy. Just make with the vengeful talk and accentuate the power of immortality... the power of the wish. After that he let me go free, surprisingly keeping his promise."

Spike's head spun. "And that's how you ended up here? Is Dayton D'Hoffryn's new little hideout?"

"Not exactly," Anya sighed, "He and the Wiccans brought me back in some rural little Canadian town in Nova Scotia. But I felt too lonely there. And with the Internet these days, it's really easy to find people. Naturally, the first person I though of was Xander. And I found him... here. He refused to believe it over the phone, but when I came here in person..."

"So you and the bloke rekindled your old flame, eh?"

"No..." Anya started. "I'd like to say we're more friends now." Anya stopped walking.

Spike. "Oh yeah?" Spike looked up at the house that stood in front of them. "This your place?"

"Xander's, really." She started up the steps to the front door.

"You still love him?" Spike questioned from the bottom of the staircase.

"What?" Anya asked, taken aback by the question.

"You still love him?" Spike repeated.

"Spike, that- I-" She unlocked the door and it swung open in front of her. "Do you want to come in?"


	2. Nightmares

Xander stared at Spike from across the table. "So, Spike, you, uh, came back to life?"

"Well, technically I was never really dead. My soul, really it was in-"

"The thing! The amulet thing, right?!" Anya eagerly answered.

Xander shook his head. "What is this, a game show?"

"I've already told your girl here the story." Spike explained.

Anya shot him a glare. "I'm not his girl."

"Right. Sorry, guess I hit a nerve there." Spike apologized almost sarcastically.

"So, Spike, what brings you to Dayton?" Xander questioned with an eyebrow raised, sipping his cup of iced tea.

"Just got here a couple weeks ago, actually. Angel said something about a bunch of demonic activity here recently."

"Seems to follow me." Xander muttered, "I just came here because my cousins live on the other side of town. Didn't know it was a Hellmouth."

"It's not a Hellmouth." Spike insisted.

"Small joke, vampire, I didn't literally mean a Hellmouth."

"I'm _not _a vampire." Spike revealed

"Yeah, you are." Xander insisted.

"No, I'm not. I'm human now. Aging along just like the two of you." Spike said, almost in defeat.

There was a long, drawn out silence while Xander and Anya took this information in.

At that moment, Anya's looked at Spike enthusiastically. "Well, at least now you can go out in the day time!"

It was two hours later and Anya had long since gone to bed.

"Lovely chatting with you, but I think I'll go back to my apartment now." Spike announced, clearing his throat and heading towards the door. "Now we've got to hang out more, revive some of the old gang, no?" He opened the door, preparing to step out into the night.

"Hey, Spike?" Xander called, hesitant.

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Can I ask you about something?"

The two were once again sitting at the table.

"Anya, she- she'll just have these... nightmares, I guess..." Xander scratched his head, struggling to explain it to Spike.

"So why are you sharing this with me?" Spike shook his head.

"Because it's not right, Spike. It's not normal. She'll wake up screaming, just thoroughly terrified. I-I'll go into her room and she'll just be sitting up in her bed, screaming."

Spike shook his head. "Sounds like some horrid nightmares."

"But it gets scary. I'll go into her room and the minute she sees me- she'll, she'll turn to me and stop. Stop screaming. But her eyes, they get, they get black.. l-like Willow's when she was all big-baddy..." Xander paused.

"And then what? That's it?" Spike asked.

"No. Sometimes she'll say things. Things that don't make sense. Like 'make the baby stop crying' or 'make them stop'. Sometimes she'll say things that do make sense."

"Like?" Spike questioned, waiting for the answer.

Xander swallowed. "Like, um, 'don't leave me again' or, uh... listen, Spike, it doesn't matter what she's saying. It's how she says it. She'll say it in this voice... this voice that isn't hers. I mean, it's hers, but it's so weak. It's this weak, vulnerable voice that I've never heard from her before. And it'll happen two, three, even four times a week. And I don't think it's normal."

Spike nodded. "Do you think she's possessed?

Xander shook his head. "I don't know, Spike. I just don't know."

"Well, you know-"

A bloodcurdling scream ripped through the house, interrupting Spike.

"Speak of the devil!" Xander exclaimed.

Xander and Spike burst into Anya's bedroom, where she was sitting up on the bed, screaming at the direction of the wall. As the door creaked, Anya's head whipped to stare at them and her screaming ceased. Her eyes were big, dark.

"He wants me back." She released a deadly whisper. "I was taken from him and he wants me back." Anya stood up, slowly, and took two steps towards the two. But she paused, her hand outstretched, and collapsed to the floor.

Xander let out a deep breath that he had been holding for quite some time. He walked over to Anya and picked her up, putting her back in the bed. He led Spike out of the room, closing the door behind him. They stopped outside in the hallway.

"Now, tell me, was that normal?"

"No, it definitely wasn't." Spike agreed, shaking his head. "But I've no idea what it could be, so I'll let you figure it out and I can go back to my apartment and catch some z's."

"You're not going to help me?"

Spike walked towards the door, throwing his hands up in the air. "It's 3 in the morning and her little episode's over. We can work this out another day." Spike threw the door open as the cool night air rushed into the house. "Good catching up." Spike slammed the door after him.

Xander waved as a delayed reaction. "Yeah, real nice!"


	3. Breakdown

Anya pushed the door open angrily, unable to control her emotions. She was the fifth place that had turned her down. It was a "we feel you just aren't suited for the job" or "we're sorry, but it looks as though we have a lot of other people lined up for the job..." It was always a no. She didn't know what was wrong with her. This time she had been turned down as a waitress for Bickford's. A waitress! If she couldn't land a job like that, she didn't know what she would do with her life. And she was so excited when she saw the "Help Wanted" sign plastered in the window. It was only a block away from the house, it would have been so convenient, she could have helped Xander pay bills, help with the grocery, but no. They had turned her down. She was walking up the steps now to the front door, and she regretted the moment she would have to tell Xander that she was turned down... again. She fumbled with fitting the key in the lock in the new darkness, but finally the door swung open.

As soon as Anya walked into the house, a strong smell rushed at her like a gust of wind. She coughed, quite aware of what it was.

"Xander?" She called, dropping her purse on the kitchen counter. She meandered into the living room to find Xander sitting cross-legged on the ground with a bottle of vodka in his hand and an array of pictures spread out in front of him.

Anya walked over to him, sitting down in front of him. He didn't look up. "Xander?" She questioned and he titled his head up to look at her. A drowsy smile spread over his face.

"Anya!" He exclaimed. "I was looking at some pictures from when we used to take pictures and stuff." The last words were a slur. Anya looked down at the pictures. She felt like a knife was going through her heart each time she saw. There was one of her kissing Xander on the cheek, and one Willow had took of them just hugging, one where her and Willow were hugging each other and beaming with Buffy doing bunny ears in the background, one of her posing in her bunny Halloween costume, she swallowed when she saw the one of her and Tara in midst of thumb war and laughing like idiots. She grabbed that one.

"Xander, please don't go through my things." She said as if scolding a child. There were too many happy memories in that pile, and she was supposed to forget them. She looked down at the picture in her hand. This wasn't supposed to surface again. This was supposed to be hidden, to help her forget that her friend was gone. It was hard for Anya, though she didn't show it, when she realized she was alone. After D'Hoffryn let her go, she had no one. She really felt the only ones who ever fully understood her were Tara and Spike. And they were both dead. Anya sighed, putting the picture face down carpet. At least Spike was back. At least.

Xander moved across to Anya, grabbing her hands. "What's the matter, An, you don't like the pictures?"

She shook his hands off hers. "_No, _I don't! Xander, you're drunk! It's disgusting!" She exclaimed, standing up and storming out of the room. He followed her, wobbling.

"Anya, I'm fine!" He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around.

"No, you're not! Let go of me!" She shouted, but he held tight to her shoulders and brought her body closer in an attempt to kiss her. She shoved him back viciously.

"Xander, stop! We are not together, and we are never going to be together, _ever_!" Anya yelled, backing away from him. "I just got turned down for _another_ job and I am _not _in the mood to deal with your drunk ass!"

Suddenly, Anya regretted yelling at him like she did because he face got serious and he slammed the vodka glass on the floor, the shatter echoing. His forehead creased with anger.

"You are so ungrateful!" He raged, getting closer to her. "I'm providing all of this for you for FREE! And how do you pay me back?! By getting turned down by every job you try for!"

Anya's heart raced. She hadn't seen this side of Xander before, and she had to admit she started to get a bit frightened. "Xander, please, it's not my fault, they just... they don't like me!"

"And I can't wonder why! Most people don't like when you insult them, Anya!"

"I don't! Xander, I'm different now, I am! I never- please, Xander, just stop! Think about what you're saying, you've been drinking too much!"

He advanced even closer on her and she scurried into the kitchen. Xander followed, banging his hand on the counter as if to release frustration. "_I'm _drinking too much?! Don't think I've forgotten that night when you and Spike had too much to drink!"

Anya could nearly hear her heart pounding out of her chest. She gripped the table,standing behind it as if it was her security. "Xander, please, you _know_ I was hurting!"

"It's always all about you!" Xander shouted, pushing down a kitchen chair violently. It fell to the floor with an echoing clatter. "You, you, you! All about what _you're _feeling!" Suddenly Xander's face got more menacing as a silence surrounded. In a frightening, deadly whisper that was more terrifying than the loudest yell from him. "Get out of my house _now_ or I swear to God you won't make it out of hear alive tonight. God, no wonder I left you at the alter."

Anya trembled with fright. She couldn't move, couldn't think. This isn't right, this wasn't Xander. Xander would never say that. Xander would never hurt her. But his cold eyes stared right into hers and she moved slowly past him towards the door. She wanted to go faster, but her limbs refused to cooperate. This wasn't Xander, this wasn't. Something was wrong. A demon, something.

As she closed the door behind her and settled down on the step, she began to worry that Xander himself was his only demon.

It was two hours later, and, having nowhere to go, was leaning against the rail with her eyes closed in an attempt to doze. A voice startled her from her thoughts.

"Is that comfortable?"

Anya shook her head, clearing the haziness from her eyes. Spike stood at the bottom of the staircase.

"Very." Anya replied in an attempt at sarcasm, but her voice came out strained.

Spike climbed the steps and sat down next to her. "Why do I have the feeling that something is up?"

"What if I just wanted to take a nap in the fresh night air?"

"You're really not good at concealing your emotions, luv." He shared.

Anya sighed. "I used to be."

Spike waited for her to explain, but she just said there with her head against the railing, staring out blankly into the night. "So, what is the real reason you're sitting out on your front steps at nine p.m.?"

Anya turned to him, sighing. "Xander yelled at me."

"And you haven't seen scarier in your demon days? You shouldn't let him get to you."

"No, I haven't seen scarier. Spike, there was something wrong. He had been drinking- and he started yelling. At first I was scared, but then I was terrified. He threatened me, Spike."

Spike couldn't help but scoff, a smile burst through onto his face. "That little boy _threatened _you?"

Anya shook her head at him in disbelief. "God, I can't even talk to you? You and Tara were gone, _gone_, and you were the only two I could really talk to without any judgment, any, any laughter! But I guess you've changed." Anya stood up and raced down the steps, not sure where she was going. And as she speed-walked down the sidewalk to her unknown destination, all of the emotions that had been pent up fled back to her in the blink of an eye. Everything. Xander abandoning her, crushing her childhood dream, Tara's death, Halfrek's death just because of her own mistake, Buffy losing all trust in her and her disconnection from the rest of the Scoobies after all that had happened. Xander's horrible statement to her not two hours ago. And Hell. Hell was where the pain had never stopped, but she couldn't do anything about it. She couldn't scream, she couldn't cry. It's like someone had bound every release of emotions she had had. There were people, people screaming all around her, dying, being tortured. The fire, it wouldn't stop. And there was always the baby. The young baby not ten feet from her that just cried. And cried. And every time she ran to it, it would get further, she could do nothing to save it. For the first time since she was brought back, all of the memories she had tried to block just rushed at her like a freight train. And it hit her. She couldn't do anything, she succumbed to the pain. Her legs collapsed under her and she fell to the sidewalk, tears streaming down her face. She stared at the sidewalk and hit it with her palm, hit it as hard as she could as if it was God. She wanted to hit God so badly. She had no doubt in her mind that God existed after what she had been through, and she knew he had something against her. She wanted to scream, but her lungs were convulsing so badly that no sound would come out. And suddenly, in a rush of movement, Spike was across the ground from her and grabbing her hands, red and raw from scraping and hitting the sidewalk.

"Stop it!" He shouted, "You're going to hurt yourself!"

She fought against him, trying to rip her hands from his grasp. But he overpowered her and pulled her closer. She wanted to yell at him so badly, she wanted to tell him to get away, to leave her alone. But the words would not come out of her mouth and she gave up trying to fight against him. She put her arms around him and held onto him as if he was her life support. He was the only one she had to comfort her right now, and she accepted it. Spike obviously did not know what to say, or do, so he just hugged her tightly back.

As they sat, crumpled on the sidewalk, the sobs finally escaped Anya's mouth, they came uncontrollably. She buried her anguished cries in Spike's shoulder as she held tightly onto his back. Spike heard her say something, but he couldn't understand her muffled words. Then she repeated it.

"Will... you be... my friend?" She managed to get out in between sobs.

Spike knew it was a weird question she was asking, he knew that it didn't make much sense. But Spike knew what she was really asking. Will you never leave me? She was asking. When I need to talk, will you listen? Will you pick me up when I'm down, hold me when I cry? Will you be there?

He nodded, more to himself then her. "Of course I'll be your friend, luv." He whispered, preparing not to let go of her until her crying ceased.


End file.
